


Coffee Cups and 'Hurry Ups'

by myawfod



Series: Snowbaz AUs- Oneshots galore~ [1]
Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow series - Gemma T. Leslie, fangirl - Fandom
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 09:47:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8367691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myawfod/pseuds/myawfod
Summary: A coffee shop au in which Barista!Baz is crushing on Simon.An afternoon with a knowledgeable Penny ensues.Just read it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> first fic so feedback is appreciated!  
> tumblr- @myawfod  
> also- unbeta-ed and couldn't really be bothered reading over it too much- if there's an error, let me know!  
> enjoy~ <33

The bell tingled in the corner and Baz’s head shot up. No blonde curls, only brunette waves. He hunched back over the bench, flicking the coffee machine into action absentmindedly. “Hi, what can I get you?”

“Whatever you normally get,” a male voice answered back, and Baz looked up, eyes wide. It was Simon S, regular at the Tea Spoon and avid lover of pumpkin mocha breve, a creation of Baz’s that he had recommended to Simon a year ago.

* * *

_The bell jingled and Baz couldn’t be bothered to look up. Another customer, who sighs when the coffee takes too long and looks down their nose at him, a lowly barista at an unremarkable coffee shop._  
  
_Hi!” A cheery voice smashed through the room like a gunshot, ricocheting off the walls and tables and finally finding home in Baz’s ears._  
  
_“Um, what can I do for you?” Baz asks, struggling to keep his mouth closed as he lays eyes upon the customer. He had the most beautiful auburn-golden-blonde curls of anyone Baz knew, and peaceful blue eyes and a smattering of moles, enough to make him cute but not enough to make it excessive._  
  
_“Whatever you normally get.” The guy throws a wink and Baz can feel his knees giving way on the journey to the coffee maker._  
  
_“’Whatever I normally get’ for whom?” Baz smirks, sharpie poised over the slip of paper they attach to each coffee mug._  
  
_“Simon. Simon S.” Baz’s hand works of its own accord and he has to stop before he starts circling the name with love hearts._  
  
_The coffee machine is sputtering into death and Baz takes the note and sticks it to the cup, handing it over to Simon with the slightest touch (enough to give Baz lighting darting up his veins)._  
  
_“Pumpkin mocha breve. Don’t try to ask for it with anyone else, it never turns out the same.” Baz pulls a smirk and only just stops himself from swooning as Simon replies._  
  
_“Right, pumpkin sugar.” Simon turns away and sits at a table, sipping with his head observing the outside world (Baz can’t stop staring at the back of his head, trying to determine the colour of his hair) (to no avail). Baz wonders what pumpkin sugar means until he realises the labelled bag was facing Simon (it was a sweeter substitute for pumpkin spice)._

* * *

 “Simon! Sorry, I didn’t realise. I-“ Baz cut himself off and straightened his posture.  
  
“And for you, Bunce?”  
  
“Black chai. In that mug.” She points to one poised on the very top shelf, smirking at Simon when she thinks Baz isn’t looking (he is) (he stops his mind before it can start questioning).  
  
“Really?” Baz sighs, and starts Simon’s quickly before looking up at the shelf, and glancing back at a devious Penelope.  
  
Baz steadies himself on the bench underneath, and reaches up. Inches short. He stands on tip-toe, and can touch the bottom of the mug.  
  
Typical Bunce. He thinks, and stretches just that little bit more, feeling his shirt hike up over his back (it’s far too small anyway).  
  
He nearly falls, mug safely in hand, but catches himself, letting a second of embarrassment on the floor before he composes himself. He peeks up over the bench to find a rufescent Simon, and Penny with an eyebrow raised. Baz struggles to keep his face clear as he brews the tea, spilling hers intentionally as he slams it on the bench.  
  
“Enjoy your tea, Bunce.” He hisses, before grinning at Simon. Simon throws a dazzling smile over his shoulder as he saunters away (Baz catches it. He always does).  
  
Baz scans the clock on the wall and finds it’s ten to four. Ten minutes till freedom.  
  
“Hurry up,” Baz moans, rolling his eyes at Simon’s giggle.

Ten minutes pass and Penny waves over Baz, who snorts but obeys with a sneer.

“What?”

“Another black chai for me, another whatever you get for Simon.” Baz refrains from growling as he stalks back behind the counter. Penny sure knows how to play the game. Baz can’t leave until the last customers are out and all the cups are cleared away.

Baz finds himself out of pumpkin sugar and finds the stores in the other room empty. (Baz can’t keep Simon waiting, or give him anything he doesn’t want).

“I have to go get some ingredients from the store. You can stay so long as you don’t break anything.” Baz says, untying his apron and hanging it on the hook.

“I’ll come. You could use some company.” Baz’s eyes nearly pop out of his head as Simon’s chair scrapes back. He exhales and his mask is back in place.

“Okay.” Baz replies simply, refraining from grabbing Simon’s hand as they leave the shop.

The walk there is awkward, but they start chatting at the shop over weird habits and on the way back they accumulate a plethora of inside jokes.  
  
Baz opens the door, mid-laugh at some impression Simon did, and stops dead. Over every single horizontal surface, and some vertical, are mugs.

For some reason, the owner of the quirky coffee shop wanted to have a homely feel. So, he dug through piles of abandoned ceramics, traipsed op-shops and asked around until he had acquired an appropriate amount of custom-feeling mugs.

However, what seemed like the perfect amount for a coffee shop now seemed like too many. Far, far too many.

Baz only had two words on his mind.

He yelled them.

“PENELOPE BUNCE!” He could hear Simon stifling giggles behind him as he stood, trapped, in the doorway. The floor was covered in cups, there wasn’t a space you could step without treading on them.

Baz angrily bent down, collecting a number of mugs in a straight line to where Penny was stranded on a table, giggling.

Baz only had to make eye contact for the giggling to turn into a look of horror.

“Y-y’know what? I think I’m good. See you, um, probably never, Baz!” Penny smiled, eyes wide as she pranced from tiny space to tiny space, shoving Simon inside as she slammed the door shut, wedging a chair under the door handle and sprinting away.

Baz just sighed and put down all the coffee cups, following after them as he leaned on a table, burying his face into his hands.

“Fucking Bunce,” he muttered, then sitting up with a weary expression on his face.

“You best be going, Simon, don’t want to be late for her.”

Simon rubbed the back of his neck.

“Nah, I don’t- we’re not- yeah. I better help, though. I’d feel terrible leaving you with this mess.”

“If you insist,” Baz said indifferently, clearing a path from the table to the storage room with his feet. Simon followed suit, making paths around the place, and then they got to work, moving as many cups as possible and stacking some in the dishwasher, others back on the assorted shelves scattered about.

“Y’know, that wasn’t the first prank Penny’s ever pulled,” Simon says after ten minutes of silent cleaning. Baz leans against the bench, eyebrow raised.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Simon chuckles at something, and proceeds to explain the time Penny slowly replaced every photo in their flat with Barack Obama’s face (very well photo-shopped, Simon emphasized, as excuse for why he didn’t notice until weeks later) and the time she moved everything five inches to the left when Simon went on a week’s holiday. The last didn’t seem very bad at all, until Simon explained that once you live in a place for a while, you don’t think as you’re moving about, until you start bumping your hip on everything (Baz had to cough while Simon showed his still-bruised hip, and disappear into the store room for a few minutes later while his cheeks cooled).

The shop was done twenty minutes later, and Baz made both of them pumpkin mocha breves. He pulled Simon by his hoodie-arm onto the seat next to Baz, and they chatted as they waited for the drinks to cool.

“I can’t thank you enough for helping me.”

“I know what it’s like to have to clean up one of her pranks. Here, pass your phone.” Baz obeyed, sliding it out of his pocket and to Simon, who unlocked it to Baz’s amazement.

“How-“

 “You’re not the only observant one here, Baz,” Simon says cryptically, shooting Baz a wink that sets his heart fluttering.

Simon programs his number in as ‘The Whatever You Usually Get Guy’, and Baz takes it back before adding a quick heart to the end.

“For whenever Penny’s a bit too much.”

“Thanks,” Baz says, smiling gratefully at the boy beside him.

“You know, you really didn’t have to help me clean up,” Baz tries again a few minutes later, and Simon sighs, setting down his drink.

“Look, Baz…” he trails off, running a hand through his hair in a way that makes Baz gulp.

“I wouldn’t- I wouldn’t have if I didn’t like you.” Baz blinks in response, and Simon plows on, eyes on anywhere but Baz’s grey ones.

“I wouldn’t keep getting your candy-bar-esque concoction, I wouldn’t travel forty minutes nearly every day, I wouldn’t keep paying ridiculous prices for average coffee if I didn’t like you, Baz.”

Simon’s gaze finally connects with Baz, and he swears someone just took a lit match to his heart.

“I- I like you, too. But seriously, hurry up, I wanna go home and I don’t even know your sur-“

Baz can no longer talk because Simon’s lips are pressed against his own. Baz took Simon’s head in his hands and deepened the kiss, Simon’s hands were tracing patterns on his back and they didn’t pull away until they were both breathless.

“Snow. My surname’s Snow.” Simon said, smirk turning into a childish grin as he walked quickly out of the store, leaving a bewildered, lovestruck Baz.

* * *

It’s been two months and Simon visits almost every day. He still hasn’t gotten anything but pumpkin mocha breve, albeit Baz’s protesting.

But they see each other in the park, kissing in the rain and in Baz’s apartment.

“What can I do for you?”

“Whatever you usually have,” Simon replies, and everything’s the same but a thousand shades brighter as Baz pulls Simon over the counter for a kiss.


End file.
